I knew who I was this morning but I've changed from then. My wrist have at least. The vision is dark and dim. The sun is black falling out of the sky. Blood using from wrist,my eyes, my thighs. Peoples words burn through me like leaves in a fire. their fingers knifes plunging in my chest. The worlds is a pit to me. Let me fall in. My bones will shared and my screams will silent. They say fall on your my friends are my razors.
YOU ARE READING
my butterfly
Poetrypoems I write poetry is like my only escape and way to deal with shit going around in my life. Much better than cutting in my opinion so yeah they may not be the best you have been warned
